


AU Meme: Three & Jo & the Brigadier

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Mentions of the Master - Freeform, Request Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: 10x AU scenarios for the Third Doctor, Jo Grant, and the Brigadier, for a Dreamwidth meme.





	AU Meme: Three & Jo & the Brigadier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paynesgrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/gifts).



**Canon Divergence**  
“Ah,” said the Brigadier, pointing to the distinctive pier, visible in the distance, though the tide was out. “Just as I thought. It’s Cromer.”

 

 **Coffee Shop**  
“There you go, Alistair,” said John, pocketing his screwdriver with a satisfied smile. “The cappuccino machine, all fixed up and good as new. Well, better than new. I’ve added in a few extra options that I think should prove helpful.”

“I seem to remember that was what you said last week when you added a self-cleaning function to the espresso machine.”

Jo looked up from cleaning tables. “Well, to be fair, it _did_ clean the espresso machine. It’s not John’s fault it exploded afterwards.”

Alistair felt strongly that it was entirely John’s fault that the espresso machine had exploded. Still, there was no denying that some of his more creative ideas where what drew in the punters, and so he merely sighed and gave the cappuccino machine a wide berth for the time being.

 

 **Shapeshifters**  
“Something wrong, Brigadier?” asked the teapot.

The Brigadier glared at it. “Doctor. This is a top secret organisation. Will you stop encouraging my people to use those powers to engage in games of hide and seek?”

“But don’t you see, Brigadier,” said the daffodil in a vase beside the teapot, “it’s not a game. It’s vital training – teaching us how to spot the lurking enemies within and all that. It’s not as if it comes naturally to any of us, except the Doctor.”

A freak accident, following the arrival of two shape-shifting aliens (the Doctor – chiefly benevolent, although sometimes the Brigadier felt that was putting it too strongly – and his enemy the Master, who was unquestionably not benevolent), had imbued a small but seemingly random number of Earth’s population with their own abilities. Something had to be done about it, and UNIT was that something. The Brigadier, having also been affected, much to his disapproval, had been a natural to lead it. It was just that almost everyone else wasn’t exactly military in their approach to the organisation, especially not the Doctor.

“Quite,” the teapot continued. “Couldn’t have put it better myself, my dear. Ten out of ten, by the way, Brigadier, for spotting us both so quickly.”

The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. “Too generous, Doctor. Miss Grant has been, so far, a plastic sunflower, a plastic tulip, a child’s plastic windmill, and you still have those –” he waved a hand – “frills about your spout and lid. It wasn’t difficult.”

“Hmm,” said the Doctor, morphing back into his own shape. “Although, I must say, Brigadier, you can’t talk. It’s not as if you’ve managed to lose the moustache yet.”

 

 **Magic**  
“Do you mean to say that you faced the Dark Lord alone?”

Alistair brushed ash from his clothes. “Not alone as such. I still had one captain and a sergeant left. And your apprentice.”

“Jo! Where is she?”

“Here, Doctor,” said Jo, slipping her arm through his. “It’s lucky I went, too, because as it turns out, my magical daffodil won the day.”

The Doctor looked at Alistair.

“The Dark Lord appears to be allergic.”

 

 **. . . In SPACE!!**  
“Have you seen these readings?”

Captain Lethbridge-Stewart repressed an inward sigh. The day had been going so well, but if his scientific officer and his assistant were rushing onto the bridge talking wildly of anomalies, it was going to turn out to be yet another one of Those Days, after all.

“Just look at it,” said Junior Officer Grant, gazing at the flight screen in big-eyed wonderment. “A big orange swirly thing in space! Groovy.”

“Jo, that is a…” Smith floundered, and then said, “Well, to be honest, I’m not sure what it is. That’s what’s so fascinating.”

“Exactly, and in the meantime I’ve observed carefully that it is orange, swirly, and in space,” said Officer Grant. She gave Smith a cheeky grin.

Captain Lethbridge-Stewart couldn’t fault her reasoning. There was another thing he knew was a certainty in these situations, however, and a question he must ask: “Smith, how dangerous is that thing?”

“Oh, hardly enough to mention,” murmured Smith. “As far as I can tell.”

“Red alert,” ordered Captain Lethbridge-Stewart.

 

 **Historical**  
“I’ve brought you your dinner, sir,” said Jo, in her cunning disguise as serving wench, bringing the Royalist prisoner his meal. She beamed at the Brigadier, and then gave a wink, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “Be careful how you eat it, though. There’s a file and a knife in the pudding. Courtesy of Dr Smith. He’s come up with a cunning escape plan, so be ready to meet us at midnight.”

There were times, the Brigadier felt, when he might almost be better off staying in his cell. But only almost. One had one’s duty.

 

 **Fusion**  
“Doctor,” said the Brigadier, “must I remind you to keep that Daemon of yours in order when on the premises?”

“Why, yes, Brigadier, I think you must.”

“And forgive me being personal, but what _is_ the blasted thing supposed to be anyway?”

The Doctor gave the Brigadier a severe stare before deigning to answer. “You don’t recognise a three-armed Venusian grotillery when you see one?”

“Ah,” said the Brigadier. “I see. That explains everything. Or nearly everything.”

 

 **Police/Firefighters/Medical**  
WPC Grant had just made her twenty-fifth cup of tea that day while the argument between the Super and Inspector Smith raged on.

“Come on,” she said, finding Sergeant Benton. “We’ll jolly well go out and solve the mystery ourselves! After all, I bet it’s that Mr Magister up to no good again!”

 

 **Supernatural**  
Dr Smith, Jo, the Brigadier, and what remained of UNIT, retreated to the pub at Devil’s End to regroup.

“Really,” said Dr Smith, “I’d have thought the BBC would have had more sense than to actually take up that suggestion about interviewing Satan live on TV. It ought to have been obvious even to that nitwit of a presenter that it was a bad idea!”

The Brigadier ordered a pint and refrained from mentioning that if certain people’s old Oxbridge friends went round disguising themselves as men of the cloth and summoning the Devil, it was a bit rich to blame the BBC just because it turned out that the Devil had misused the opportunity in order to bring about mass demonic possession of the viewers. He sighed. “What next, Dr Smith?”

Dr Smith paused and looked around the bar. “Wait,” he said. “Where’s Jo?”

 

Somewhere down in the church crypt, a small figure in white confronted the Devil. “Hello,” she said, raising her chin, “you said you’d leave us alone if someone was prepared to sacrifice themselves. Well, here I am!”

 

 **Regency/Romance Novel**  
Dr Smith watched Miss Grant and Dr Jones’s carriage drive away into the sunset with something that might have been regret. Weren’t reformed, charming rakes supposed to win out in these affairs? He heaved a sigh.

“Doctor,” said the entirely unromantic voice of Lethbridge-Stewart from beside him. “Far be it from me to interrupt a private moment, but His Majesty has further need of your services.”

No peace for the wicked, eh? thought Dr Smith, and then favoured Lethbridge-Stewart with his full and unvarnished opinion of the Royal nitwit otherwise known as the Prince Regent, and if he verged on the treasonous, Lethbridge-Stewart failed to mention the matter for once.


End file.
